


the understanding of nothing

by extranuts



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extranuts/pseuds/extranuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after Sherlock's death, John finds himself gravitating back to 221B, and finds the one person who could ever possible tear down every shred of determination in his heart to believe; Richard Brook. </p><p>Six months after Sherlock's death, Jim Moriarty finds out what <i>nothing</i> could really be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's not like Jim doesn't feel, because he does. He feels the blandest, most shallow of emotions; satisfaction after good food or a nice shave and fondess for meercats. Jim gets frustrated, when he goes off pitch during a song. He's annoyed when his phone breaks down. He's amused when the silly little people drown in his games.  
  


But below that, in the place where people like to say "really matters", there is  _nothing_.

 

It is, in fact, more like _N-O-T-H-I-N-G._ Jim has a poster like that above his bed ( Jim thinks it's like shouting in written form and he likes that ) because Jim is _empty_. There is no loyalty, no trust, no true, pure joy, and no love. 

 

There isn't bloodlust, not even the normal sort of hate, although many would believe otherwise. Jim doesn't hate ordinary  _people,_ he hates their existence, certainly, but not them for  _them._ And when someone dies before him, what satisfies Jim is the knowledge of what they're thinking, what they're feeling and how they know now that love will get them nowhere. Jim likes knowing that he'll always win, no matter how long or difficult the fight, because he _knows_ people - emotions and all - more than they'll ever know him. Jim likes the taste of defeat.  
  


And the thing is, JIm doesn't want that to change. Jim sees people destroy themselves every day. He sees people who will, in the end and people who seem to want to be destroyed. Jim sees the people, ordinary, walking the street and knows what they do, what they will do and why they will do it, and it's so bloody hateful and boring that he wants to scream.  
  


And these people  _want_ . He can almost taste their hopes and dreams and deepest desires. It's written on their faces, printed right on their eyes, in plain sight for everyone to see. Except no one does, only _Jim._  
  


It's not like Jim isn't a selfish bastard, because he is. He wants the world for him, all for him. He wants the world see him laugh and watch him set fire to the whole, whole earth. But he's brilliant. He can, where everyone  _can't._ But people, all the ordinary people are greedy and stupid too, at the same time and Jim hates them, hates them all.  
  


And Hate is probably the emotion that Jim has been able to master the best, because he knows what it means. He knows that he hates because he needs, much like anyone else. Without the ordinary people that pale so white and dull next to him, Jim wouldn't be different, wouldn't know better, wouldn't - couldn't - be king.  
  


But like an itch that needs scratching, Jim wants to know what it's like to be ordinary, just, perhaps, for a day. To see whether he would still win if he knew how to love. But then again, when Jim has an itch, he scratches it and he can't scratch this one. Not this one. It drives him insane, because the only thing that truly scares Jim is to _not know._  
  


Of course, even the Ordinary have levels, varying degrees of stupidity. Jim knows this, and milks it when he needs to. But in the end, he can laugh and know that they're all the same, just the way a white lie is really still a lie. Jim _knows_ this ( and, as always, there is a 'yet' that hangs beneath that line)  
  


And John, John Watson is all of this. Ordinary and Boring and so, so stupid. He's brave, blundering, so gullible and pure of heart. Jim probably hates him most, of all the people in the world.

   
Jim wants to sit back and watch him burn himself, because without Sherlock, he will. Jim doesn't have a do a thing. (although, he supposes, he already has)

 

Below him, the world moves on, boring, ordinary - _alive._

_  
_


	2. where two loose ends meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim doesn't know why, but even after Sherlock is gone, he gravitates towards things that remind him of his greatest rival, greatest triumph.

 

John leaves Baker Street.  
  


Mrs Hudson cries, and maybe he does too. He's not sure, because days pass in a blur and things that were once important don't seem to have ever mattered before. Little things like hats and whispers and nicotine patches on sale at the pharmacy leap out at him in bright colours. It gives him headaches. 

  
He's not too sure when, but he starts using his cane again, first when he goes on long walks and then short trips to the store, until he  _has_ too, and the pain doesn't go away.

  


In a way, he likes it better that way. He's _John_ again, plain, old John Watson who should be sitting cozy in a small little flat with the telly on and tea and biscuits on his lap, nursing a psychosomatic leg wound. So that's what he does, because it doesn't do any good remembering what must now be Past.  
  


John lets his old, heavy heart sink to the very bottom of his consciousness and buries his head in the sand.

-

 

It takes him six months to be able to walk past 221B again. John stands and watches cars drive by. He watches as people walk, as though everything is normal ,even though it never will be again. Not for John, at any rate. 

 

John shuts his eyes and sees Sherlock, perfect in his imperfections and infinitely human in that one moment where he bared his very soul to John.

 

He opens his eyes and looks right into the eyes of Jim Moriarty. John will never forget that set of eyes; wild, unhinged, amused, smug and beautifully tortured. They stare at him from the window of 221B, unreadable, yet at the same time mocking every moment of John's grief.

 

John might have yelled, but all can hear is the sound of static and  _Goodbye John_ and boundless anger that fills him up and sweeps him across the road, limp forgotten and cane left lying on the road along with the shards of the fragile new life he'd shakily put up. 

 

He runs up the stairs to find  _Moriarty_ sitting pretty on _Sherlock's_ couch, wrapped in Sherlock's favorite blanket. There is a fresh pot of tea in the table, and some of the biscuits that John and Sherlock both liked and Mrs Hudson didn't and that Sherlock always forgot to pick up along with the milk.

 

And John, who has, for so long, been able to numb everything, to pretend that all is well, feels the anger hit his gut and shake his very core down to the roots until all he feels is the primal, raw desire to strangle the life out of Moriarty. John leaps at Moriarty, blood pumping through his veins far faster than it has in a long time, even as he stares into Moriarty's eyes and see that they hold no fear.

 

He's always been a man of action, as Sherlock liked to say,and if he wasn't, John later reflects, perhaps he would have had something to say when Moriarty's flails about and stutters, 'Dr. Wat-t-t-son? I'm just Brook, Richard Brook," and John can feel him trembling beneath him, " _Please,_ you're hurting me-"

 

-

 

Jim doesn't know why, but even after Sherlock is gone, he gravitates towards things that remind him of his greatest rival, greatest triumph. Because really, Sherlock was _him,_ abeit weaker (more _human,_ more than Jim could ever be). And maybe what annoys him, because Sherlock _felt_ , just like the ordinary people, unstood in ways that Jim cannot. Jim can study, he can see through the flimsy outer layers of humans, but he'll never be able to feel.

 

Sherlock could, and Jim couldn't have that, because once Sherlock figured out that _people_ were really just worthless, petty _animals,_ he would win for sure.

 

He buys 221B, moves the greater part of his stuff there, and takes up residence as Richard Brooks, small time actor, and regular old nice-guy. If anyone (especially Sebastian) notices the irony, they do well to not mention it.

 

-

 

Of course he knows that John Watson would come back, how could he not, when even Jim is susceptible to the force that was Sherlock Holmes (and Jim thinks that force hasn't really died out with the man, and perhaps never will).

 

Quite naturally, John comes back around the same time he'd first arrived at 221b, stands about for a while, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that Jim thinks that maybe John won't see Jim at the window, staring down at him. John takes a deep breath that is almost audible from where Jim is standing, and opens his eyes.

 

Jim smiles, because he has already won.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfghjkl;' As this grows, my head-canon is slowly going a little bonkers

**Author's Note:**

> I think I may be going a little crazy myself, after this, omg.


End file.
